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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24982459">Kaleidoscope</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tea_is_Not_Them/pseuds/Tea_is_Not_Them'>Tea_is_Not_Them</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Avatar Jon (AKA: Other Entities snag the Archivist) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Almost none tho, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Archive Staff Found Family, Archivist Jonathan Sims, Butterflies, Canon-Typical Worms (The Magnus Archives), Corruption Avatar Jonathan Sims, Corruption!Jon, Except Elias that bitch dies, Fluff, Found Family, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Sasha does not get Not!Themed, Shenanigans</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:01:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,465</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24982459</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tea_is_Not_Them/pseuds/Tea_is_Not_Them</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon had gone home exhausted after his promotion. He was so tired he barely questioned the butterflies in his flat. In the end it was better that way.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Avatar Jon (AKA: Other Entities snag the Archivist) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1818751</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>90</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>619</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Kaleidoscope</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I fffffff- I love the corruption ok. Also Jon needs FOUND FAMILY DAMMIT. Baby deserves the best. Also sorry Melanie fans i am so mean to my girl, she deserves better.</p><p>ALSO a group of butterflies is called a Kaleidoscope. I think thats cute as FUCk</p><p>THERE IS (MORE) FANART Check the notes at the bottom uwu</p><p>Here are my Socials!</p><p>Insta: Tea_is_not_them<br/>Tumblr: tea-is-not-them<br/>Tiktok: teaisnotthem</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It wasn’t that Jon asked for what happened. It happened much like many things did in his life, too fast, and not in his control. He got home from the archives and noticed that there was something fluttering in his house. </p><p>He was curious of course, and he noticed that there were butterflies in his flat. It was a large amount and he wondered how they got into his flat. The windows were all closed, the door was locked all day, and he knew that for a fact. But butterflies were not dangerous to him like a hoard of wasps might be.</p><p>And he had to admit, they were truly beautiful. He thinks they're called Malachite Butterflies, the green and almost opalescent way the wings shined. The hundreds of butterflies were a flurry of brown and blue and green, some even colored with white. He swore each one was larger than an inch.  He might have been able to stare at the unusual swarm if not for the pure exhaustion that weighed his bones. </p><p>One landed on his nose and he sneezed. For some reason he felt calmer than he had in years. As he changed into a giant nightshirt and crawled into bed he could swear he heard something that could be buzzing, or maybe even singing. </p><p>------</p><p>When he wakes up the next day he notices something is different. Something inside him feels wrong, hollow. However, it also felt right, perfect in a way he had never felt.</p><p>It smelled floral.</p><p>Curiosity pulls his eyes downwards until he notices the butterflies around his room. He remembers the night before, and realizes he left his bedroom door open however strange it was, and huffs a laugh. His stomach fluttered and his chest rose and fell wrong. His eyes widened.</p><p>He lifted up the bottom of his sleep shirt and saw a gaping hole in his stomach. Jon stops breathing and notices that he did not feel all that different to when he did breath, as if the breathing was just reflex. Barely conscious, a hand reaches into his stomach, feeling the faint touch of something delicate.</p><p>There are butterflies on his hand when he pulls away. He wanted to throw up, or scream. </p><p>Instead he heard them, they were singing. Little voices singing to him, and he felt a little less terrified. Still, he wanted to know what was going on. </p><p>There were also holes in his thighs. He realized the floral smell was him, coming from the inside of his body.</p><p>Jon stood up and felt almost the same as he had yesterday. He stretched, and watched with morbid curiosity as the gash in his stomach moved. The skin stretched and opened a little larger, showing off the green wings of the burrowing things inside him. He looked to the butterflies on the wall that sang to him and he relaxed a smidge against his will. A few came and landed on him and he catalogued the feeling of legs.</p><p>Jon went about his morning normally and realized that he did not wake up on time. He might as well take the day off at this rate, but he was never the type to skip work. As if they sensed his slight distress the butterflies flew around his head. A few crawled into the holes on his thighs and curiously he felt no pain or discomfort. </p><p>He went to get dressed and get ready for work, and he was a little glad that nothing had changed how he would dress. Silently he thanked the fluttering things that burrowed inside him that they were at least kind enough to grant him that freedom.</p><p>----------</p><p>He was an hour late, having to speed walk his way to the Archives after missing the tube. He gave Rosie a wave and walked down to the archives. He noticed Tim and Sasha at their desks and guessed that Martin was in the breakroom doing whatever he did while making tea. Jon tuned out everything and headed to his office getting straight to work. </p><p>He didn’t have a headache after this statement he noticed. Briefly he wondered if it had something to do with the butterflies that were still fluttering around inside him. Taking a deep breath, he looked again under his shirt to find that he could see a few peeking out of the gash. </p><p>One took off and flew around the office, slipping out through the cracked door. Jon felt a streak of panic strike through him and stood up abruptly. For some reason he did not want anyone to see them, a small part of him did not want the butterfly to leave him. </p><p>He found it in a hallway that no one was in. He breathed a sigh of relief and coaxed the thing onto his hand. Softly he scolded it until he made it back to his office. Thankfully no one had seen it but he was rather stressed about the staff finding out about his new ‘condition.’ </p><p>------------</p><p>“You noticed anything different about Jon lately?” Sasha says offhandedly. The door to his office was closed, but they knew he was too busy doing whatever it was he did. She was stapling a few papers together without even having to look at them.  </p><p>Martin stuttered a little, “Well. Yes?” </p><p>“He's been acting weird and avoiding us, but that's kinda normal Jon behaviour. If it wasn’t for the fact he has been going home at the same time as us, I’d think everything was normal.” Tim replied, trying to balance a pen on his nose while on hold with the people he was supposed to get follow up from. </p><p>Martin looked a bit red, and the other two staff almost wanted to tease him, “Yes he has. Have you seen the plants he got for the office?”</p><p>They had seen the plants. There were plenty of them, all in places far away from statements, some were blooming with beautiful colors. All the plants were potted in a deep beige pot, uniform but still strange. The three archival assistants wondered where in the world he got them from, and when in the world he had put them there. And they knew Jon got them because no one else had put anything down there. Also Elias would never, he only came down to be a creep.</p><p>They all wondered for a bit, but then they had to get back to work. Whoever Tim was on hold with picked up again, and Sasha had finished her stack, and Martin went back to his desk.</p><p>Jon left at the same time as them again. They swear they hear him humming. </p><p>---------</p><p>Jon didn’t know why he had ever not liked having butterflies living in him. From a scientific point it was terrifying and weird, but also he hasn't slept this decent in forever. Every night he could relax, listen to the fluttering and singing and know that he was safe. Of course he did have some issues adjusting with it-- being able to go without eating was strange---, but he didn’t feel as terribly lonely as he had. </p><p>He was a lonely child...</p><p>He hummed as he made tea, heating up the water in the microwave. Lately he had quite the sweet tooth which should concern him more, but he knew that the food was going to the butterflies. He didn’t have a stomach anymore. </p><p>The first week had been hard, adjusting to the sweet tooth, the need for fresh air more often, the sudden hatred for smoking. He had a neighbor who smoked a few doors down, and he began to vehemently avoid her, because she smelled like it and it cloyed around her like an oppressive fog. </p><p>He also now had plants everywhere in his flat. There were easy growing plants around and flowers on his nightstand and kitchen counters. It was the same at the archives, but he was more careful since he didn’t want to get any dirt or water on the old statements. </p><p>They were mostly in the breakroom and on a table he had dragged into his new office so that it would be isolated from anything delicate. Being careful was not something that had changed.</p><p>The plants were nice too. He didn’t realize how dark and oppressive the archives were, always chalking it up to being in the basement. But it was truly like they were cut off from everyone else with only on exit.</p><p>He also looked up anything he could find on butterflies and their habits. They were different from other butterflies, as they had lived inside him and were living longer than other butterflies might. But it was nice to learn more things. He bought a few books on the subject as well. </p><p>The cashier at the bookstore had looked at him funny and he noticed a stray butterfly sat on his shoulder, the same that was on the cover of the thick nonfiction book he had chosen. Jon laughed a little as if it were a mere coincidence, but made no move to talk more or voice his internal joke to the cashier. He had changed but not that much. </p><p>But now that he understood better what was going on, he felt at ease. The crushing curiosity held back slightly, though it was still unwieldy. </p><p>--------</p><p>He watered the flowers in the breakroom and then poured some water for tea. The butterflies got restless if he didn’t do something active at work, even just to stretch from sitting in the same position all day. They appreciated him getting up more often going above and beyond though.</p><p>He grabbed his tea and put a few teaspoons of sugar and cream into it, stirring while thinking about what to do about this one statement that caught his mind. </p><p>Jon wondered if he should get Tim or Sasha on the case before something bumped into him. Well someone bumped into him. Martin was already apologizing before he realized he had spilled a bit on his shirt sleeve.</p><p>“Martin. It's fine. Watch out next time.” He said curtly, cutting the apologies off as he did so. He turned and went to his office with his cup, feeling a little disgruntled about it, but less tetchy without the constant headaches. </p><p>No need to snap at him.</p><p>----------</p><p>“He didn’t yell at you all week, that should be cause enough for celebration Martin!” Tim clapped him on the back on the tube. The three archive assistants were going out for drinks and the topic had drifted back to Martin’s crush and how weird he was acting around the office. </p><p>Martin spluttered, trying to make Tim knock it off, “He’s just in a good mood this week.”</p><p>“Nuhuh. He’s been like that for the past month, I wonder what he's been up to!” Sasha grinned, her purse buzzed and she checked her phone. </p><p>“I for one, love that he is not getting angry at everything! I think I caught him smiling. Do you think..?” </p><p>Martin did not know what Tim was getting at but Sasha gasped overdramatically, “You think he's got a date or something?”</p><p>“Martin has competition!” Tim was laughing a little, hands waving dramatically as he spoke. “I mean, he has started smelling like flowers lately. Like that one honeysuckle perfume Sasha tried once!”</p><p>“Oh you’re right! He looks a lot less like the dead too. Maybe hes freshening up for someone.”</p><p>Martin was beet red, which made Tim and Sasha laugh a little as he tried to make sense of the situation. Finally, as the laughter died down, they talked about other topics, because the night was to get away from work not talk about it. But the question did stand. What was making Jonathan Sims less of a grouch?</p><p>-------- </p><p>Jon had a book in hand, sitting in the park enjoying his day off. He didn’t think that he would have done this before the change, going to the park and enjoying a pleasant day, or not doing work on a day off. It was a nice day though, he could feel the cool air through his light sweater, and it was a day away from London rain. Some of the butterflies were flittering about only a few feet away on the grass. </p><p>One was on the edge of his book, moving out of the way every time he flipped the page. It was a book he found at a charity shop, one that kept his mind off of work and everything else. Not a leitner, he had checked more than three times. </p><p>He could take a nap right here and now honestly, the sun on his face and a breeze, but he wouldn’t do that. </p><p>It was going to be cold soon, and he shuddered to think about how cold it might be. He was skinny and more susceptible to being freezing, but also it might hurt his new family. He clicked his tongue and placed a bookmark into the book. As he closed it he looked around and noticed no one was looking at him.</p><p>Jon hummed a quick recreation of the butterflies song, and all of his scouting bugs flew back to him, clustering on his hand and in his hair. They were enjoying the last of the tolerable weather.</p><p>He walked back to his flat trying to get the butterflies to hide away because what if someone saw them! They needed to stay safe, but they all just fluttered about, hiding in his long hair and crawling up his sweater sleeves. Some stayed put in safety though.</p><p>---------</p><p>“Is that a flower crown?” Tim mumbled as Jon passed. The man didn’t seem to hear him, but he had a flower crown made of purple and green. A single green butterfly circled around a flower, landing and crawling along the petals, almost blending with the light greens.</p><p>Tim wondered if it was a vision, maybe a hallucination from ingesting too much caffeine. There might have been something in his morning coffee that messed with him that day. He relayed the information that he had seen their boss in a flower crown to his two coworkers. </p><p>“That’s rubbish Tim he would never.” Sasha replied, downing the last of her coffee.</p><p>It was very much a debate between the two, with Martin trying to stay out of it. Sasha thought Tim was full of it, Tim knew what he saw Sasha!</p><p>Martin went to give Jon tea, which had changed over the past month from Lady Grey with no sugar or cream, to a honey vanilla chamomile with three teaspoons of sugar and cream, it was an immense change, but it kind of endeared Martin to him. </p><p>“He did have a flower crown.” Martin looked shocked, but also very much like he was smitten. Sasha laughed at his crush as Tim was fist bumping the air glad to be vindicated. </p><p>-------</p><p>Jon held his phone, the butterflies were buzzing around nervously, their song tinged with worry. It was the same worry he felt. He looked at the text. It was from Martin telling Jon that he had a bug and wouldn't be coming into work. It was a perfectly normal text, so he tried to calm down. He flapped his hands around to keep himself from chewing on his fingers.</p><p>It wasn’t like him to worry so much about someone missing work but he chalked it up to needing the help. Though Martin wasn’t the best help. </p><p>The butterflies flew around him, landing on his face and in his hair. Somehow it always made him feel a little better, so he sat down and took some deep calming breaths. So he calmed easily, even though something fretful was on the edge of his song. He hummed to himself as he looked over supplementals and filed things to where they needed to be.</p><p>-----------</p><p>When Martin burst in talking about Jane Prentiss he was fluttering around the other, worried. He worried about everyone working for him, but for some reason he fretted for Martin. He usually did not want him to get in the way.</p><p>“You can stay in the Archives. It’ll be safer. There's a cot in document storage that you can use.” he new document storage was not easy to break into, no worms or butterflies could go through that door. He was unable to sleep there anymore after the butterflies. He was too anxious to be found out, and too anxious for a butterfly to get trapped in there alone.</p><p>Jon hummed as he went to the breakroom, worried about Jane Prentiss getting into his archives and hurting his assistants. He felt a little protective of his place, well very possessive for some reason actually. Though the thought of meeting someone like him was intriguing…</p><p>Nevermind, he read the statements about her and was very much against meeting her. There had to be others like him right? Ones that didn't brutalize and infest people. He would not like to become whatever Jane had become. He had some semblance of humanity, so maybe others had some too.</p><p>The butterflies sang softly and he smiled, just a tad. They would be ok.</p><p>--------</p><p>Something was crawling out of a hole in the wall. Jon may have screamed a little, his chest alight with flustered and confused butterflies, and fled when worms began to pour out of the wall like an open wound. He had no clue where Tim and Sasha were, but he knew Martin was in the breakroom. </p><p>“Martin! She's here!” He was out of breath, no matter how much more exercise he had gotten he would not be able to run too long.  </p><p>They fled to document storage, where the cot was, worms piling and crawling through the archives like a rot. A living white carpet that had teeth. </p><p>Jon felt a few on his leg, but none tried to burrow into him. He flicked them off with a wrist movement, feeling the fluttering of the butterflies as they freaked out and swarmed in his chest. When they got to the airtight room Jon slammed the door behind him, locking it. </p><p>Martin had a few and Jon used the corkscrew to get the wriggling things. His hands shook, but he tempered his nerves so that he wouldn't cause any more damage.</p><p>He sighed in relief as the last of the disgusting things died, the bloodied worm corpses on the ground. Behind Martin he saw one of his butterflies eating a worm. He made a disgusted face but still sighed. He was now assured that Martin was safe, even if his kaleidoscope’s eating habits concerned him a little. </p><p>Martin looked frantic still, “Are you ok? Did any get you?”</p><p>“I- I’m fine Martin not to worry.” he reassured him showing him the absence of worm holes in his face or arms or ankles. </p><p>Tim was still in the archives and Jon was desperately hoping that the man was ok. He couldn’t bear to lose any of his assistants. (Later he would wonder why, but right now he was just scared)</p><p>Sasha was outside the window though and both he and Martin were screaming for her to leave. But the door window slowly got covered in worms.</p><p>Tim burst through the wall holding canisters of CO2 and Jon smiled. Tim was high as a kite, but he was alive. Jon wondered if he would be ok, because he could see some bloodied holes. They would worry about it later, as they had to stop Sasha from dying. </p><p>Somehow they got separated and Jon was in the tunnels. He didn’t realize until he had dropped through the hole in the floor that must have been a trapdoor. Though he still ran, trying to find any of his assistants.</p><p>Jon was face to face with Jane Prentiss. He was alone as the woman crawling with worms saw him, corned alone in the tunnels. His butterflies were flying around his head almost like a crown. </p><p>“Oh, and here I thought you were the Eye’s.” Jane grinned, as  what only qualified as eyes in name flickered up to the fluttering things, “You hear their song?”</p><p>He did. He heard the worm song and the butterflies song colliding and crashing, “Uh. Yes I do. It’s…” It’s beautiful, he wanted to say. Because he could hear the crashes and waves of lovelovelovelove of all the creatures for their host and families and each other. The worms sang to him as well, of how much they loved their host, how they were proud of him for finding himself a family. His butterflies sang to comfort him, their terrified host.</p><p>The song was beautiful, but he also hated what Jane had become. He would not let her harm his archives.</p><p>He was saved from speaking to her again, because she was blasted with co2 from behind. Jon backed away quickly, afraid that the extinguisher would hurt him as well, or maybe his precious kaleidoscope. The butterflies hid from whoever was spraying the carpet of worms and their host. Jon felt a bit faint from fear of the CO2, and fear that he was about to be found out. The fear of death.</p><p>Sasha had come up from behind. He smiled widely at his apparent saviour, all of his terror washed away. She did not smile back. </p><p>----------</p><p>As Tim and Sasha and Martin were getting checked over in the ambulances, Jon stood away from it all. He was scared, shaken by Jane Prentiss, but he was not going to waste these people’s time, and he was not going to take the chance of someone noticing something off about him. </p><p>If he still had a heart he might be feeling it beat at a speed of a motorboat. Maybe he was reading too much into things, but he didn’t like that look Sasha gave him as they left the tunnels. He was anxious and the soft hum of the butterflies music could only do so much while he was surrounded by people.</p><p>He listened to his assistant get checked over, hearing them all get the good to go. Jon let out as breath, smiling that they had all gotten out relatively safe. They would have some scars, but they weren't dead. Nor were they infested. </p><p>A tiny part of him was saying he was just glad they were not infested with worms, because if they had chosen butterflies like he had they would always be connected. They could be a part of his family. He blinked a little, confused as to where that thought came from. Curious and a little horrified. </p><p>Still. He hoped they would just think he was lucky to escape without injury and not to suspect him to be a butterfly hive. </p><p>----------</p><p>They did not think he was just lucky. The week they got back, Jon was cornered. </p><p>Tim spoke first, as Jon’s hands shook a little holding the hot mug of sugary tea, “How did you get out without getting hurt?” He didn’t sound accusatory, but still it felt like they were confronting him, and that was alarming.</p><p>Jon didn’t really know what to say, his mouth opened and closed a few times, as he tried to think of an excuse. </p><p>Sasha gently pushed Tim away, “Jon.”</p><p>And his mind told him that she knew, the alarms screaming. He knew that she heard the conversation between him and Prentiss. He was foolish to think that she hadn’t. He shook still.</p><p>“Jon what did you talk to Prentiss about? In the tunnels? Why did she not attack you right off?” </p><p>She hadn’t heard? She heard the conversation happening but not the words! Either way that was damning! He was screwed and they would spray him with the CO2.</p><p>“Well-I- We. Uh.” He saw the looks the three were giving him and finally he blurted- “I’m like her!” His back was flush against the counter, the countertop biting into his middle. He closed his eyes, terrified.</p><p>Martin was the one to speak, “What do you mean Jon?”</p><p>He saw no point in beating around the bush, and pulled up his shirt. Martin flushed for a second before all three assistants saw the gaping hole. A few butterflies took this as a cue to flutter out and start crawling on the counter. He dropped the shirt back. </p><p>They were quiet, and Jon was waiting for one of them to kill him or something. Anything is better than the silence going on. </p><p>“How did this happen to you?”</p><p>-----------</p><p>Jon was sitting in his office, waiting for the assistants to make up their mind about him. It was nerve wracking, but he understood their caution. He was cautious about himself for the first few days, but he was not going to hurt anyone in the archives. Especially not them. Maybe Elias, but not them. </p><p>When the door opened he saw butterflies fly around, closer to him as if to protect him. He smiled a little and looked up to see Martin. </p><p>Oh. They weren’t scared of him. A weight lifted off his shoulders and both of them, and the butterflies, went to the breakroom.</p><p>-------</p><p>Of course it took a bit for the three of them to get used to Jon again. Though he felt free, more free than before. Butterflies were allowed to go around the office, and he even caught Martin cooing at them and giving them sugar water. He caught Tim letting them read statements over his shoulders. Even Sasha warmed up to them, letting them hitch a ride around the stacks.</p><p>He watered the plants and hummed. Of course he would always worry that they would suddenly change their mind, but still, it was nice.</p><p>“Hey Jon! Found another statement about you.” Martin smiled, handing him the folder. Jon huffed a laugh.</p><p>“Wow boss! Third one this month!” Tim joked, before taking a drink from his mug. It was full of some kind of unholy mix of energy drink and coffee. Jon could gag from the smell alone. </p><p>Jon rolled his eyes, “yes yes. The Butterfly Man in London. Very spooky Tim. Don’t you have a follow up to do?”</p><p>“You’re no fun boss.” Tim clicked out of the social media, giving an exaggerated wink before pulling up his research once more. Sasha snorted into her own mug of respectable sweetened tea. </p><p>Martin made him a mug of tea as well, and he took it gratefully, but he had to wave butterflies away from the rim, “Hey, get your own.” The butterflies had the gall to try and look innocent and he tried to hold in a small laugh. </p><p>Back in his office he filed the third statement about him in the assigned area. They made sections based off of categories of the scarier and more real statements, the ones that wouldn’t digitize. He sipped his tea, feeling a few butterflies land on his head. </p><p>He still had work to do though, and he began.</p><p>----------</p><p>Martin and Tim were walking and saw Jon passed out on the break room couch, probably exhausted from staying late. The only bad thing about them knowing about the butterflies meant that Jon didn't have to go home to let them breathe. So he was back to overworking himself on occasion.  </p><p>Martin cooed. Jon was curled up, making him look even tinier. He had no blanket but butterflies were fluttering around his head like they were protecting him from bad dreams. Martin did not think this man could get any cuter, yet somehow.</p><p>Tim snickered at him and Martin hushed him. The other man took out his phone and snapped a picture, looking at him with a smug face.</p><p>“Shut up Tim.” Martin grumbled, face still red.</p><p>“Should we wake him up? The couch is probably bad for his back.” Sasha’s voice came from behind them. Martin and Tim jumped in surprise but Tim recovered quickly.</p><p>“Wake up the sleeping beauty? Our own resident Spooky Disney Princess?” He was grinning, having a great time making jokes about their boss. </p><p>Martin hummed, looking thoughtful, “He is kinda like a Disney Princess isn't he?”</p><p>Sasha groaned, “Just stop pining already.” She and Tim were sighing as he sputtered.</p><p>“What if he doesn’t like me? Wouldn’t that ruin like, everything?” he was fidgeting with his hands. </p><p>Tim put his face in his hands, seemingly to hold back a monster noise of annoyance, “He totally does Marto. But whatever.”</p><p>In the end they left him to sleep, but someone, we won't name names, draped a blanket over him. Because it was pretty cold in the archives.</p><p>----------</p><p>Jon hummed, taking a sip out of his mug. His door was open, as it was wont to be after Jane Prentiss’ attack. He heard some laughing and looked up confused. Tim and Sasha were giggling outside of his door. They were looking at him and he wondered why they were doing that. What was he doing that was funny?</p><p>Jon looked down and saw the liquid in his mug. It was a bright magenta and he realized it was hummingbird nectar. He hadn’t even noticed the difference, but now that he was thinking about it he noticed the differences, even the little ones. How had he missed that?</p><p>He made an unimpressed face at the two giggling assistants and then as they were looking he downed the rest of it like a champ.</p><p>He put the mug down gently and looked at them. They went back to work. He won this round.</p><p>---------</p><p>Martin was sitting at his desk, doing some follow ups and he noticed a few butterflies were all around him. He smiled and cooed at them. They were flying and landing around him. He felt two in his hair and he saw some walking up and down his arms. They were not too much of a distraction, and he liked them.</p><p>“Hello you. You are all very pretty butterflies.” Their wings moved and ruffled and he took that as a thank you. He smiled and stroked one carefully. </p><p>The butterflies flapped their wings at him again. </p><p>“Yes. Poetry worthy butterflies.” He quietly complemented. No one else was in the office, Tim and Sasha were out on follow up field work. Jon had gone out to get food for the Assistants. </p><p> “Jon is pretty sweet isn't he?” He told the butterflies. They all seemed to pay attention to him and he went a little red. They seemed to want him to talk. “He’s changed a lot to. Thank you for that. It's nice to see him happy.”</p><p>One of the butterflies headbutted him with its tiny head. Its antennae felt funny on his skin.</p><p>“Yes, and you are very cute fluttering about.” </p><p>----------</p><p>Jon came back a few minutes after Tim had, and Sasha a minute after Jon. Martin greeted them, and the butterflies that landed on him flew back to their host. Jon placed the food on each desk, humming a little. </p><p>Martin noticed Jon flapping his hands. The fluttering almost reminded him of wings and he felt a little more endeared. He was also endeared by the food, which was delicious.</p><p>---------</p><p>Martin spoke to the butterflies often, Jon knew this. Everyone knew it. But Jon found out in a more personal way as he started hearing his assistants voices when they were not near him. He heard Tim yelling about something and he knew a butterfly was near him.</p><p>Could he hear through the butterflies? </p><p>That might be an issue if he thought about it. Though he could usually block out the noises, he had plenty of practice from childhood. </p><p>Except for today. </p><p>“He’s very cute as well. You are all very good accessories.” The voice was unmistakably Martin’s. But Martin was deeper in the Archive’s hallways, very far away from Jon’s office. The voice was also soft, fond sounding. </p><p>“Yes I know it’s silly of me.” He sounded a little sad, “he probably doesn’t need me. Wouldn't ever like me like that.”</p><p>What was he talking about? Jon was trying to understand when it suddenly clicked. He went red, flustered over hearing that from Martin.</p><p>“A bit weird of me to vent to butterflies that live in his body. But thank you for listening.” he sounded so fond. Jon felt himself smile and go soft at the kindness. He also very much wishes he didn’t hear the conversation, because he did like Martin. So did the butterflies he supposed.</p><p>Oh he felt a little bad about listening in on his private thoughts. </p><p>Something he thought would have been an issue was the butterflies. He knew that could probably stifle any other relationship from the beginning but Martin loved his butterflies. It was nice to know.</p><p>------</p><p>Jon wondered how to ask him out. Would it be weird for him to? Are there rules against that kind of thing? He was thinking way too much and worrying enough to make the butterflies flutter around. He found it a little funny about the butterflies in your stomach expression. </p><p>How would he do that without telling him he accidentally heard him confess to one of his butterflies and that he could sometimes hear what they heard. Ugh this was complicated, he hates human complications.</p><p>He should probably tell him. He should. </p><p>He would.</p><p>Tomorrow.</p><p>------</p><p>“Why are there butterflies here?” </p><p>Oh. Someone was here to give a statement. Jon froze and then snapped his fingers hoping no one would hear him. The butterflies quickly left and flew up his shirt sleeves and wriggled under the bottom of the sweater. Once he had all of them he left to go speak with whomever came into the archives.</p><p>Her name was Naomi, and her statement made Jon feel all sort of wrong. His mouth opened, but then he stopped himself. For some reason he was about to ask if she wanted assurance against being lonely. Jon was never lonely anymore, so maybe she wouldn’t be? </p><p>No. That’s weird.</p><p>“Well I suggest you keep with family and friends. Being alone might not be the best idea for you right now.”</p><p>The whole encounter made him sad, the idea of being alone again made him feel physically sick. He gagged at the idea, so hard that he accidentally spat up a butterfly. </p><p>“Sorry.” The butterfly fluttered its saliva covered wings and he cleaned it off with his sweater sleeve. The song was comforting especially after that. He hoped that Naomi stayed safe and alive. Jon hoped that she wouldn’t be lonely, even if she found that in a different way than he had.</p><p>------------</p><p>If you told Jon that he had died that day with his butterflies he would call you crazy. But after reading all the statements he could find of the hive, the rot, and bugs, he realized that he most likely did. On that topic, he hadn’t found a single statement about things like him that weren't a little hostile or creepy.</p><p> Of course he could have guessed from context that he was dead but he was glad he didn’t remember death.</p><p>Also he liked that groups of butterflies were called kaleidoscopes. That was cute. </p><p>That might have been a terrible experience. He thanked the butterflies for letting it happen while he was asleep, because the idea of being gutted was disgusting. Actually, he wondered what happened to his organs. Maybe one day he would ask. </p><p>He was still warm though. The feeling in his legs and arms still stayed, the same flush dark color they always were. He was the same color as life, not paling from rigor mortis. </p><p>He was glad he didn’t remember dying…</p><p>-------</p><p>Today would be the day. Today would be the day he talked to Martin about a date. </p><p>No he wouldn’t. There was someone here to give a statement. She was taller than him but that wasn’t much of a feat, he was short. She had brightly colored hair, dyed a vibrant pink with a peak of roots showing. And she had crushed one of his butterflies with her shoe, and left it on the archive floor. She did it on purpose and he Knew.</p><p>It hurt. It hurt so much. He doubled over, clutching his chest. Why did that hurt so bad? Jane didn’t seem to care or feel when her worms got hurt.</p><p>He was crying. He felt it and clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. </p><p>Sasha knocked and then came in quickly, “Jon! Are you ok?” </p><p>He shook his head as if to stave away the sudden pain and emotional turmoil, and stood up straight, “Ok. Someone is here to give a statement.” He sounded a lot less angry than he was, just a slight bit pissy, he calmed a little, “You all go on and have fun. I’ll deal with it.”</p><p>“No we won't leave you here alone with a statement giver. That's dangerous/. We can wait.” Jon knew she meant it was dangerous for him to be left alone with a stranger, and not that she thought he was dangerous. That was nice to know actually.</p><p>He took a breath calming himself and listening to the song that reverberated in his chest, “Thank you Sasha. I’ll buy you all coffee soon.”</p><p>The butterfly killer walked in, being chaperoned by a fidgeting Martin. Jon couldn’t help the glare and look of anger from his face, though no one noticed it. </p><p>He didn’t smile at her, he wouldn’t be pleasant to someone who just hurt his kaleidoscope like that. She looked about as angry as he was. He wondered what made her angry enough to hurt an innocent butterfly but he kept his cool. He had an irrational thing about spiders that only got worse after changing. But spiders are the worst and would eat a part of him if he wasn’t careful so he had a reason!</p><p>“You’ll be giving your statement into this.” he pointed at the tape recorder and noticed it was already on. That’ll work, he supposes. </p><p>“That thing? I knew you were a little slapdash but this is ridiculous.”</p><p>Jon raised a brow, “Yes it's not the most orthidox, but that's what we have.” He crossed his arms, sitting at his chair, waiting. </p><p>The woman scowled at him, and he reciprocated with a smile that was more teeth than upturned lips. She gave her statement after a bit of back and forth that both were practically snarling at each other.</p><p>As soon as she finished Jon nodded.</p><p>“Is there anything you can do? Or was this just a waste of time!” She stood up angrily, slamming her hands on the table. </p><p>Jon stood as well, not quite reaching any taller, “we can follow up and get any additional information we can. If you leave your number we can call you.”</p><p>“Oh so that's it! You just call me! You think I’m a loony don’t you? Fuck you!” </p><p>Jon struggled to keep himself under wraps, “We believe you.”</p><p>“Right like that tone is gonna to make me believe you. I find stuff realer than anything in this place, and catch it on film that's not older than my mother.” </p><p>Jon scoffed, “Ok. If only you knew what you can find here.” He snarled, “ Have. A. Nice. Day.”</p><p>She left, slamming the door in of his office and the one from the other room out of the archives. He snarled a little and let his head fall on the desk with a solid thump. Emotionally, he was drained. His chest still hurt from losing a butterfly.</p><p>Someone opened the door, and he looked up to see Martin. He looked concerned and Jon sighed. He put his head down, letting out a pathetic noise. After a second he lifts himself up, and smiles halfheartedly at Martin.</p><p>“Do you want to talk about it?” He shook his head.</p><p>“Why was she so angry?” Jon sighed. Martin finally let it go and gave him a smile. Jon returned it with a small quirk of the lips.</p><p>He picked up the butterfly when no one was looking, carefully putting it on his desk to bury by the plants in his house later. He wasn’t going to leave it down here even in death</p><p> Then they went to lunch. Hearing the assistants- his friends, they were friends now-- talk, and the humming of butterfly song calmed him down enough to enjoy the rest of the day.</p><p>------------</p><p>Jon tried to hype himself up, to get himself ready to talk to Martin. It was almost time for everyone to leave and then he could snatch a second of time. He just needed a second.</p><p>Finally he took his coat and found himself next to Martin.</p><p>“Uh. Hey.”</p><p>Martin startled and Jon winced a bit, “Hey! Jon! Whats up?”</p><p>“Well- I wanted to…” He cut off and felt really stupid, “I. I wanted to ask you out for lunch or maybe coffee, sometime? I- I mean as a date.” He felt so awkward and he could barely stop, “I mean. If you’d like. Well. One day I heard you talk. To… The. the butterflies. About me?”</p><p>Oh now he was going to be mad at him. He waited to be yelled at but he looked up to see Martin flushing red.</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“I’m sorry. I did not know I could do that and it just. Happened?”</p><p>Martin waved his hands, “No that's slightly concerning, but like you’re really asking me out?”</p><p>Jon was confused for a second, “Yes? Of course? I mean I wasn’t the nicest so if you turned me down I would understand but-”</p><p>“No! I mean. Yeah! Let's go out for coffee sometime. Or tea since you hate coffee.We both hate coffee, Jon.”</p><p>“It’s too bitter now you know this, and I was panicking.”</p><p>Martin turned up his nose in a mock expression of elitist, “Mr. Jon ‘I drink black coffee like an adult’ Sims.”</p><p>Jon groaned, “The bitter is bad for the butterflies!”</p><p>“Oh Mr. I am too sophisticated to put sugar in my tea!” </p><p>“Martin!” </p><p>-----------</p><p>Jon was tired of Elias being creepy. He was saying things about him needing to be better with archiving and stop going out on lunch so much and all this and that. He wondered when he ever looked up to this man. </p><p>“Jon why must you go out during these days.”</p><p>“It’s not illegal Elias. Down time is good for a working person.”</p><p>“The archives are still a mess.”</p><p>“Yes, well if Gertrude had done her job, and you noticed that she wasn’t doing her job and fired her, we would not have this problem.” He was on thin ice. Jon really should err on the side of caution because Elais might fire him. But honestly he was tired of him trying to control him like a child. </p><p>-------- </p><p>Finding out Elias killed Gertrude Robinson was not as surprising as it should have been. Elias was kind of a creep. And well, with how much he hovered Jon was close to making an HR complaint against him. He might as well honestly. Not much else he could do honestly. </p><p>When Elias finally called Jon up to his office and asked once more why he wasn’t being curious enough Jon had had it. He was tired! He was tired of his creepy murderer boss who wanted to throw him into danger.</p><p>The kaleidoscope of butterflies flew out from under his sweater, catching Elias off guard. It seems his all knowing eyes didn’t see this coming.  They swarmed around him and Jon wondered briefly what the hell was going on. Then he realized. </p><p>Well. If the butterflies wanted to eat their conniving boss from the inside out, who was he to tell them not to.</p><p>He watched curiously, wondering how a butterfly would eat a person. His morbid curiosity was sated as the butterflies crawled back under his shirt, finding themselves back in his chest cavity. There was a smudge of blood on the inside of his sweater but hey, a small part of him has been waiting to have an infestation. He left a few butterflies to nest in Elias’s desk.</p><p>Getting back down to the archives, he was humming cheerfully.</p><p>-----</p><p>His date with Martin was wonderful. They got tea, went to the park, the butterflies crawled all over both of them absolutely wriggling with excitement. Jon was also excited. The smell of flowers permeated the air, mixed with the smell of sweet warm tea. </p><p>It was nice. He wasn’t lonely anymore. He had Martin and he had his butterflies. He had Tim and Sasha as well. </p><p>He leaned into Martin’s arm and hummed, a small clicking noise escaping his mouth as he stayed content watching the world go by.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please give these guys all of the love :D </p><p>By @artharridan on instagram (link: https://www.instagram.com/p/CCD3dWulyYM/ )</p><p>By Pabloskrems (Link: https://pabloskrems.tumblr.com/ )</p><p>(By Art Harridan! Send her love she’s a fantastic artist!)</p><p>https://www.instagram.com/p/CDGhbl-lQZW/?igshid=cv7ue1p8j0vh</p></blockquote></div></div>
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